SPARGO WISHES TO SPECIALIZE
The and the journalist, left thus on a pavement, looked at each other. Breton laughed.
"We don't to have much information," he remarked. "I'm about as wise as ever."
"No—wiser," said Spargo. "At any rate, I am. I know now that this man called himself John Marbury; that he came from Australia; that he only at Southampton yesterday morning, and that he was in the company last night of a man we have had to us—a tall, grey-bearded, well-dressed man, a gentleman."
Breton his shoulders.
"I should say that would fit a hundred thousand men in
London," he remarked.
"Exactly—so it would," answered Spargo. "But we know that it was one of the hundred thousand, or half-million, if you like. The thing is to that one—the one."
"And you think you can do it?"
"I think I'm going to have a big try at it."
Breton his again.
"What?—by going up to every man who the description, and saying 'Sir, are you the man who John Marbury to the Anglo——"
Spargo him.
"Look here!" he said. "Didn't you say that you a man who in that in the entry of which Marbury was found?"
"No, I didn't," answered Breton. "It was Mr. Elphick who said that. All the same, I do know that man—he's Mr. Cardlestone, another barrister. He and Mr. Elphick are friends—they're philatelists—stamp collectors, you know—and I say Mr. Elphick was there last night something new Cardlestone's got of. Why?"
"I'd like to go there and make some enquiries," Spargo.
"If you'd be to——"
"Oh, I'll go with you!" Breton, with alacrity. "I'm just as about this as you are, Spargo! I want to know who this man Marbury is, and how he came to have my name and address on him. Now, if I had been a well-known man in my profession, you know, why—"
"Yes," said Spargo, as they got into a cab, "yes, that would have a lot. It to me that we'll at the through that of paper a than through Rathbury's line. Yes, that's what I think."
Breton looked at his with interest.
"But—you don't know what Rathbury's line is," he remarked.
"Yes, I do," said Spargo. "Rathbury's gone off to who the man is with Marbury left the Anglo-Orient Hotel last night. That's his line."
"And you want——?"
"I want to out the full of that of paper, and who it," answered Spargo. "I want to know why that old man was to you when he was murdered."
Breton started.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I—I of that. You—you think he was to me when he was down?"
"Certain. Hadn't he got an address in the Temple? Wasn't he in the
Temple? Of course, he was trying to you."
"But—the late hour?"
"No matter. How else can you his presence in the Temple? I think he was his way. That's why I want to make some in this block."
It appeared to Spargo that a number of people, of the office-boy variety, were of making about the man. Being luncheon-hour, that of Middle Temple Lane where the was found, was thick with the and the sensation-seeker, for the news of the had spread, and though there was nothing to see but the on which the had lain, there were more open mouths and around the entry than Spargo had for many a day. And the had so great that the of the had sent for a to move the away, and when Spargo and his presented themselves at the entry this was being as to his by a little weazen-faced gentleman, in very and old-fashioned garments, and an hat, who was by the commotion.
"Drive them all out into the street!" this personage. "Drive them all away, constable—into Fleet Street or upon the Embankment—anywhere, so long as you this place of them. This is a disgrace, and an inconvenience, a nuisance, a——"
"That's old Cardlestone," Breton. "He's always irascible, and I don't we'll anything out of him. Mr. Cardlestone," he continued, making his way up to the old who was now up the steps, an as as himself. "I was just to see you, sir. This is Mr. Spargo, a journalist, who is much in this murder. He——"
"I know nothing about the murder, my dear sir!" Mr. Cardlestone. "And I talk to journalists—a pack of busybodies, sir, saving your presence. I am not aware that any has been committed, and I object to my being by a pack of office boys and loungers. Murder indeed! I the man these steps and his neck—drunk, most likely."
He opened his door as he spoke, and Breton, with a and a at Spargo, him into his on the landing, the journalist to keep at their heels.
"Mr. Elphick tells me that he was with you until a late hour last evening, Mr. Cardlestone," he said. "Of course, neither of you anything suspicious?"
"What should we that was in the Temple, sir?" Mr. Cardlestone, angrily. "I the Temple is free from that of thing, Mr. Breton. Your and myself had a on our peaceful pursuits, and when he away all was as as the grave, sir. What may have gone on in the above and around me I know not! Fortunately, our are thick, sir—substantial. I say, sir, the man and his neck. What he was doing here, I do not to say."
"Well, it's guess, you know, Mr. Cardlestone," Breton, again at Spargo. "But all that was on this man was a of paper on which my name and address were written. That's all that was of him, that he'd just from Australia."
Mr. Cardlestone on the with a sharp, glance.
"Eh?" he exclaimed. "What's this? You say this man had your name and address on him, Breton!—yours? And that he came from—Australia?"
"That's so," answered Breton. "That's all that's known."
Mr. Cardlestone put his umbrella, produced a of colours, and his nose in a fashion.
"That's a thing," he observed. "Um—does Elphick know all that?"
Breton looked at Spargo as if he was him for an of
Mr. Cardlestone's manner. And Spargo took up the conversation.
"No," he said. "All that Mr. Elphick is that Mr. Ronald Breton's name and address were on the of paper on the body. Mr. Elphick"—here Spargo paused and looked at Breton—"Mr. Elphick," he presently continued, slowly transferring his to the old barrister, "spoke of going to view the body."
"Ah!" Mr. Cardlestone, eagerly. "It can be seen? Then I'll go and see it. Where is it?"
Breton started.
"But—my dear sir!" he said. "Why?"
Mr. Cardlestone up his again.
"I a proper about a which at my very door," he said. "Also, I have more than one man who to Australia. This might—I say might, gentlemen—might be a man I had once known. Show me where this is."
Breton looked at Spargo: it was plain that he did not the turn that were taking. But Spargo was quick to an opportunity. In another minute he was Mr. Cardlestone through the and of the Temple Blackfriars. And as they into Tudor Street they Mr. Elphick.
"I am going to the mortuary," he remarked. "So, I suppose, are you,
Cardlestone? Has anything more been discovered, man?"
Spargo a shot—at what he did not know. "The man's name was Marbury," he said. "He was from Australia."
He was a on Mr. Elphick, but he failed to see that Mr.
Elphick any of the which Mr. Cardlestone had exhibited.
Rather, he indifferent.
"Oh?" he said—"Marbury? And from Australia. Well—I should like to see the body."
Spargo and Breton had to wait the while the two in. There was nothing to be learnt from either when they reappeared.
"We don't know the man," said Mr. Elphick, calmly. "As Mr. Cardlestone, I understand, has said to you already—we have men who to Australia, and as this man was about the Temple, we it might have been one of them, come back. But—we don't him."
"Couldn't him," said Mr. Cardlestone. "No!"
They away together arm in arm, and Breton looked at Spargo.
"As if on earth they'd him!" he said.
"Well—what are you going to do now, Spargo? I must go."
Spargo, who had been his walking-stick into a in the pavement, came out of a fit of abstraction.
"I?" he said. "Oh—I'm going to the office." And he away, and walking off to the rooms at the Watchman, for one in which sat the official of the editor. "Try to me a minutes with the chief," he said.
The private looked up.
"Really important?" he asked.
"Big!" answered Spargo. "Fix it."
Once with the great man, he well by that time, Spargo no time.
"You've about this in Middle Temple Lane?" he suggested.
"The facts," the editor, tersely.
"I was there when the was found," Spargo, and gave a résumé of his doings. "I'm this is a most affair," he on. "It's as full of as—as it be. I want to give my attention to it. I want to on it. I can make such a of it as we haven't had for some time—ages. Let me have it. And to start with, let me have two for tomorrow morning. I'll make it—big!"
The looked across his at Spargo's face.
"Your other work?" he said.
"Well in hand," Spargo. "I'm ahead a whole week—both articles and reviews. I can both."
The put his together.
"Have you got some idea about this, man?" he asked.
"I've got a great idea," answered Spargo. He the great man squarely, and at him until he had a to the face. "That's why I want to do it," he added. "And—it's not over-confidence—I know I shall do it than else."
The for a moment.
"You to out who killed this man?" he said at last.
Spargo his head—twice.
"I'll that out," he said doggedly.
The up a pencil, and to his desk.
"All right," he said. "Go ahead. You shall have your two columns."
Spargo away to his own and corner. He got of a of paper and to write. He was going to how to do things.